


i'm waiting for it, that green light, i want it

by humanluke



Series: real life au [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanluke/pseuds/humanluke
Summary: He keeps staring.He doesn’t mean to.  He really doesn’t mean to stare, but he’s just a little baffled at the sight at the end of the bar.  Michael had only just gotten this job at this bar, and it was a little nicer than the one he had worked at before (and definitely nicer than his daytime coffee shop gig) but it was definitely still the definition of a dive bar.So what was someone as prolific as Calum Hood doing sitting at the other end of his bar?--Or, Calum is an heir to a prolific company, and Michael is his bartender.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Series: real life au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936159
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	i'm waiting for it, that green light, i want it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellingatbabylon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellingatbabylon/gifts).



> hi mandie here!! this is for sam's birthday (i am sorry it is a day late sfd) but i just wanted to write a little bit of meet-cute malum for you. thank you to everyone in the club for being so supportive ily all!

He keeps staring.

He doesn’t mean to. He really doesn’t mean to stare, but he’s just a little baffled at the sight at the end of the bar. Michael had only just gotten this job at this bar, and it was a little nicer than the one he had worked at before (and definitely nicer than his daytime coffee shop gig) but it was definitely still the definition of a dive bar. 

So what was someone as prolific as Calum Hood doing sitting at the other end of his bar?

Michael knew the other man’s face well -- he was well known. His father was the head of one of the biggest companies of the world, almost rivaling that of Amazon. He’d been in the spotlight the majority of his life. 

Which is why he was well known for his playboy status and his excessive drug use and drinking. 

So Michael isn’t entirely surprised to see him at the end of a bar. He’s just surprised to see him at the end of this one. 

“I can see you staring at me, you know,” he hears a voice chuckle. His eyes come up to meet the other man’s, and his pale cheeks flush a little bit as he gets a little lost in those eyes of him. No wonder he’s so well known for his playboy status. How could you not get drawn to a face like that? “I came to somewhere like this so I wouldn’t get ogled like I am now.” His cheeks run a little bit hotter, and he averts his gaze a little bit. 

“Sorry,” he says, almost bashful, but there’s still a defensive edge to his voice. He goes back to wiping the counter aimlessly for a beat before looking back over at the man and sliding down the length of the bar to him. He gets an annoyed glance, the other man nursing his glass of whisky. “I mean, I can understand wanting to get out of the spotlight, but why would you want to come somewhere like this when you could just do it at home?” Michael realizes his inquiry is a little unwarranted and blushes again, looking away from the other man. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. Just curious, I suppose.” 

There’s a pause between them. Calum swirls the whisky around in his glass a little bit before taking a sip. It goes down smoothly, mostly because it’s not as harsh as what he’s used to, but bitter enough to take off his edges. He sets it down on the bartop, fingers tracing the rim of the glass as he avoids eye contact with this nosy bartender. He knows he doesn’t have to indulge him. This isn’t a charity event or a gala or a meeting at his dad’s work -- he isn’t obliged. But something about this bright eyed man in front of him wants to let off a little bit of steam.

“I’m tired of looking at the same empty walls of my home,” he says with an easy shrug. “I never spend enough time at home since i’m travelling often enough with my father for work. So it’s just the place that I sleep sometimes. It’s hardly a home.” He finishes off his glass and looks at the blond man expectantly. Michael lets out a soft noise of realization before pulling the bottle of Maker’s Mark, filling the glass with another double shot. “Thanks.” 

“So you wanted a night of quiet, but you still wanted to go out in public. Where someone could still easily spot you.” Michael raises a curious eyebrow at him, putting the bottle back behind the counter. “Doesn’t seem like a very smart move to me.” Calum rolls his eyes at the other man, but an easy chuckle makes its way past his lips. The other man did have a pretty good point. He admires him quietly for a moment as he nurses his new glass, eyes razing over his body as he drinks in the sight of the tall blond wiping the counter down in front of him. 

“Maybe I really did want someone to find me,” he replies easily. “Maybe I like the thrill of being caught out in public. You don’t know me.” A smirk graces his plush lips, and the blond boy behind the bar can feel his body warming up again. He leans against the counter a little bit, averting his gaze to try and form a cohesive thought while getting stared at by this incredibly attractive man. “No, I wouldn’t have come out to somewhere like here, two hours from home, just for someone to notice me. I thought it might be safe here from you know, paps and stuff.” Michael’s expression softens as he looks at the man again. From this close, you can see the toll that the lifestyle he leads is taking on him. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his fingers tremble against the glass as he sets it back down on the bartop. The dullness of his eyes. Like someone whose life has been too much. 

“I’d say that I understand, but I don’t, so I won’t patronize you,” he says curtly, pulling up his own stool from behind the bar to sit across from him. Calum looks up at him, those dull brown eyes lighting up just a bit. He hated to be patronized. He was surprised that someone like this was so easily able to see that. “But you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. I actually live upstairs, so I literally have nowhere else to be.” The smile that cracks calum’s lips is almost genuine for once in his life, taking another sip of his drink. 

“I’d really like that a lot,” he offers, his voice soft and withdrawn. Michael’s still quietly studying him, observing the tattoos that grace his hands and arms, how his shoulders relax from his words and he eases into his chair a little bit more. Like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders with the idea he didn’t have to be rushed out. It’s hard to believe this is the same man seen grinning on the covers of magazines with his pick of the week, always laughing and seemingly not caring what anyone thinks. 

Michael is glad he can ease the man’s nerves in any way he can. He couldn’t imagine carrying the heavy burden of being in the public eye. Regardless of how the man was perceived by them. All he can do is offer him a gentle grin and top his glass off for him. “Who could say no to someone like you?” 

\--

This becomes a routine of sorts for them after this night. Once a week, Calum would come to the little bar that Michael worked at. Michael would close it when he got there, seeing as though he was the bar manager, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted. They would talk about anything and everything. Michael’s life -- not that he had much of one -- he worked here at the bar, worked part time at the local coffee shop for extra money, and played video games when he wasn’t doing either. Sleeping didn’t come easily for him, so these late nights didn’t bother him much. Calum would complain about things at the company, complain about his father, complain about how he was trying to quit taking hard drugs and how hard it was for him (Michael couldn’t relate, but he did a lot of research to help him come up with some more positive coping mechanisms). 

They kept this up every week. If Calum was out of town, he would always call Michael from wherever he was to complain about it (even if it was a tropical island somewhere. Which Michael would reprimand him for.) It had been going on for months at this point when the question finally came up. 

“Hey, Michael, can I ask you something?” 

Michael looks up from the bartop that he was aimlessly wiping at, pretending like he’s busy. Calum was gone for the last couple of weeks, so this is the first he’s seen of him in almost a month. Things have been a little weird between them. Michael wonders if he’s done something wrong, because Calum’s been pulling back. He wonders if he’s got a new girlfriend or something. Not that that is something he should be thinking about or worry about, but it weighs on his mind sometimes. That they might lose these stolen moments. 

“What’s up?” he asks softly, leaning against the granite. Calum’s eyes are fixed on his empty glass, and he wonders briefly if that’s what he’s asking for. His hand reaches back for the bottle of whisky, but Calum reaches out between the two of them, grasping Michael’s wrist. He turns to look at the brunet, a little surprised at how forward he was being. 

“Not that,” he says, almost embarrassed as he lets go of Michael’s wrist. “Sorry, didn’t mean to… sorry.” The blond just shakes his head a little, offering him a gentle smile as he runs a hand through his messy hair. 

“You’re okay,” he says softly. “What is it then?” Calum’s eyes go back to his cup for a moment before looking back up at Michael. “What?” 

It happens in a rush of moments, and Michael doesn’t know what to think when Calum reaches across the bar top and takes his face into his hands, kissing him softly on the mouth. He tastes like tobacco and whisky and mint and it’s so much to take in but its so good he doesn’t want it to ever end. 

When Calum pulls back, Michael looks at him breathlessly. He isn’t sure where it came from, and he’s stuttering, stumbling over his words, trying to find what to say. 

“I thought… I… You… I…” 

Calum’s hand is still on his cheek, and he looks at him with soft and sad eyes, smiling at him a little bit. Michael slumps into his bar seat across from him, trying to understand. 

“I wanted to do that for a really long time,” the brunet says softly, looking away for a moment. He pulls his hand back before looking back over at him. “I’m really glad that I have you. You aren’t like everyone else who has expectations of me. You just want me to be…me.” Michael finally finds a laugh, holding onto it for a moment as he admires him again. It’s been a while since he’d truly been able to admire him this way. 

“Of course I want you to be you, who else would I want you to be?” he offers. He reaches his own hand across the bartop, taking Calum’s hand into his. It’s shaking a little bit, and he wonders if he was nervous. Seems strange for someone with so much confidence to be nervous about a kiss, but that wasn’t his place to judge. “I’m glad that you shared that with me, Calum.” He looks at him softly before leaning over the bartop himself, kissing him again, slowly and full of his whole heart. “I’d share anything with you.” 

It isn’t long before Michael’s turning off the lights of the bar, finally leading Calum up to his apartment on the second floor of the building, sharing his home with the man he was giving his heart to. 

And when Michael woke up the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the windows of his apartment over the bar, he smiles at the sleeping form of Calum next to him for a moment. He’s glad that he could share his bed, too.


End file.
